Requiem for Atlas
by Ariel D
Summary: SANDSIBS fic. As Gaara rebuilds his chakra, he refuses to accept help from anyone. Can Kankuro convince him that he doesn’t have to be like Atlas carrying the heavens on his shoulders? Set post Shippuuden ep. 32. Now the second story in a growing series.
1. Chapter 1

**Requiem for Atlas**

By Ariel D

_Description: SANDSIBS fic. As Gaara rebuilds his chakra, he refuses to accept help from anyone. Can Kankuro convince him that he doesn't have to be like Atlas carrying the heavens on his shoulders? Set post Shippuuden ep. 32._

_Disclaimer: Gaara, Kankuro, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Not YAOI. This is the sequel to "Blood of Brothers," but you don't have to read the first story to read this one because I only make a few references to it here. This is another exploration of the bond that is growing between Gaara and Kankuro._

_And just to avoid confusion…contrary to popular belief, Atlas is holding up the celestial sphere (the heavens) using his shoulders, not carrying the world. That's a long-standing misunderstanding caused by paintings and sculptures of the sphere._

* * *

**Chapter One: Carrying the Heavens**

The wind whispered across the desert, stirring grains of sand and swirling them midair. The cloudless sky arched overhead in an electric blue dome that was broken only by the lazy flight of a single hawk. Gaara knelt on his knees, his palms against the hot sand of Training Arena 2. Every afternoon since he'd returned home from his abduction, Gaara had come to Arena 2 to practice his techniques and work on rebuilding his chakra. Every day, he left frustrated. The loss of Shukaku seemed to have cut his chakra in half, and as Kazekage he needed his strength back quickly.

"Hey, man, don't push yourself too hard," said an amused voice. "The swooning girls of our village would never recover if you died of chakra exhaustion."

"Kankuro," Gaara said, identifying the speaker.

The tall puppeteer in his Bunraku outfit walked up and knelt beside him. "I thought I'd find you here." He gave Gaara a small smile. "Look, I get that you're impatient to rebuild your strength, but this process will take a few months."

"We may not have a few months!" Gaara snapped, standing. "If word leaks out that I've weakened, we would be attacked immediately." He frowned, deeply disturbed by that possible scenario. Finally, he had what he'd hoped for and worked toward: to be needed by someone, to be wanted by someone. But now . . . "I am the Kazekage; it's my duty to defend the village, not endanger it further."

Kankuro gazed up at him, his eyes wide, and Gaara realized his brother was shocked by his unusual show of emotion. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the frustration that had been plaguing him for the past week, but it seemed to burn under his skin.

"I know," Kankuro said after a moment, standing as well. "But you're not going to do us any good if you collapse from overexertion, either. Temari and I are both jonin now, you know, so we can help to protect both you and the village if it comes under attack — not to mention the other Suna shinobi. We'll be safe while you recover."

Gaara gazed up at his older brother, realizing that Kankuro's claims a week earlier to care for and protect him had been quite sincere. A pang shot through his heart, and he looked away toward the horizon. Why did Kankuro's loyalty hurt? "That doesn't change the fact that this is the weakest I've been in my life," he said, further irritated by both his condition and by feelings he couldn't understand. "The sand no longer automatically defends me."

Kankuro clapped one hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you'll compensate." He smiled again. "Besides, when you can manipulate the sand to defend you by your own will, you'll actually be more powerful than you were before."

But Gaara didn't want comforting or encouraging. He wanted _results_. Right now. He jerked away from Kankuro's touch. "If you have the time to say things you don't know for sure, then you have time to help me train."

Kankuro's smile died. He let his hand fall and dropped his gaze to the ground. "Sure, man. No problem." He pulled out the only summoning scroll he currently carried — the one for Karasu. He hadn't finished fixing his other puppets yet; it had been all he could do to reassemble Karasu in time to search for Gaara again.

Gaara grimaced and raised his fingers to one temple. It wasn't right for him to take out his frustration on his brother, and it was especially unfair to hurt his brother over something he could never understand: how much it stung to finally be needed and then to be useless. "Sorry. I know you're trying to help."

Kankuro glanced back at him and gave him a wan smile. "It's okay. But if you didn't push yourself as hard as Lee-kun seems to, you might be less crabby."

Gaara stared at him with hooded eyes.

Kankuro chuckled and hopped backwards, leaving a fifteen-foot space between them. "Let's go!" He whipped open his summoning scroll and clapped his hands together, releasing the seal. Karasu appeared before him, making its signature clicking sounds. Kankuro launched the puppet immediately, making Karasu shoot four kunai in Gaara's direction.

"_Suna no tate._" Verbally invoking the jutsu to aid his efforts, Gaara gathered his remaining chakra and focused on forming a shield in front of himself. He _had_ to get his abilities back under control. He had to be able to protect his people.

Gaara's chakra-infused sand, which he'd left in a pile on the ground, struggled upward in a triangular shape, covering his lower half well but failing to protect his upper body. Three of the kunai lodged in the shield, but the forth one headed straight for Gaara's throat. With an exclamation, he tried to dodge, but the kunai still slit the side of his neck.

Kankuro lurched forward in surprise. "Gaara!"

"I'm all right." Gaara put one hand over the cut, suppressing the bleeding, and growled. He'd never developed dodging skills because he hadn't needed them. "It's shallow; just a surface scratch. Keep going."

Kankuro paused, clearly unsure of the wisdom of this request, but then repositioned Karasu. "Very well." He separated Karasu's arms, which then extended blades, and then drove the blades at Gaara.

Once again, Gaara called forth his sand shield, straining to focus his chakra. "_Suna no tate._" The sand lurched upward, covering his entire body for a few seconds, then crashed to the ground.

"Damn!" Kankuro yanked on his chakra-strings, jerking Karasu's arms backwards and stopping the attack completely.

Gaara felt the blood drain from his face as his chakra hit rock bottom. He collapsed to his knees, rendered momentarily unable to move.

Kankuro dropped Karasu to the ground and ran over to his brother. "You pushed yourself too hard today. Are you all right?" He fell to his knees beside Gaara and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"This is pathetic," Gaara snarled, clenching his fists. "I have to do better than this." _I have to regain my strength before they decide I am no longer worthy of their respect. Before they decide they don't want me anymore._

Kankuro jerked off his cat-eared hood and pressed it against Gaara's bleeding neck. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Beating yourself up is not the answer. I'll come out here and help you train every day if you like, but don't hate yourself for taking time."

Gaara had leaned his head to the side to allow Kankuro better access to the wound, but at these words, he pulled away. "Think about it. I can't take time. Protecting the village aside, the morale of our people is in jeopardy. You and Temari have striven to keep the whole truth a secret from the villagers, from spies, and even from the council. But one day some child is going to throw a ball at me in invitation for a game, or the wind is going to pick up some object and hurl it at my back . . . and if I don't realize it quickly enough, everyone present will see the sand shield fail to form."

Kankuro let his arms fall and frowned. "I've thought of that. But I think you're looking at this the wrong way. Shukaku wasn't the true source of your power; it was just a power that you always had access to. You became truly powerful when you decided to protect others. Your strength never came from Shukaku. The source of your strength was — and is — your dedication to protecting the village."

Gaara blinked. It sounded almost like something Naruto would say, and he desperately wanted to believe it. But as irritated as he was with himself, he just couldn't see it as that simple.

"Besides," Kankuro continued, "you don't tend to take random walks around town, so the villagers aren't likely to figure it out. But even if they do find out, the younger generation will always stand behind you. They believe in you. I believe in you."

Gaara placed both hands on his knees and forced himself to stand. "Their trust and belief will mean nothing if I get them all killed." He stumbled away, still trapped in a swirl of self-hatred and frustration. Now that he had achieved what he so desperately wanted — to be needed as Kazekage — he couldn't bear the idea of failing his position.

Behind him, he could hear Kankuro stand and take a few steps as well. "You don't have to carry the whole universe on your shoulders. There's a whole village of shinobi here to help you, not just Temari and me."

Gaara stopped and growled. Kages were supposed to be powerful enough to defend their villages against any threat, not have to rely on their people to support them. Gaara whirled around and thumped Kankuro in the chest with the heel of his hand, shoving him backward. "Quit trying to comfort me! Given that I both died and lost Shukaku, we have no idea if I'll ever recover, and if I don't, they'll probably ask me to step down as Kazekage."

Kankuro stared at him, his expression caught between shock and hurt.

Gaara whirled back around and walked away as fast as he could manage. He felt embarrassed and angry at himself for yelling at Kankuro, but he couldn't seem to control his irritation. It almost reminded him of his struggles to control Shukaku's bloodlust.

And that scared him.

* * *

Kankuro stared after his younger brother, his emotions mixed. The seething 17-year-old inside of him had wanted to punch Gaara for shoving him . . . but no, if he was honest with himself, that wasn't really it. He really wanted to punch Gaara because as the older brother, Kankuro had been putting himself out on an emotional limb for the past week. He'd spent almost every night in Gaara's room — or vice versa — watching over Gaara as he struggled through his first few nights sleeping. It had been hard for him to lower his defenses and show his little brother just how much he cared for him. Gaara's rejection of that care just now had stung Kankuro and left him aching deeply. Even now, Kankuro clenched his fists and growled.

"Fine!" he hissed, although Gaara was too far away to hear the reply. "If you don't want my comfort, I'll keep it to myself. I'll get more sleep that way."

However, as Kankuro turned toward Karasu and prepared to reseal the puppet into its scroll, he sighed deeply and then exhaled his anger. In its place rose worry and understanding. Although he had a quick temper, Kankuro's anger had been averted when Gaara had said he might be asked to step down as Kazekage.

Kankuro reattached Karasu's arms with a mere flick of his practiced fingers and sighed again. "He's worried," he told the puppet. "He's not mad at me; he's mad at himself. And he's angry because he's worried."

It made sense. In fact, it made disturbing, dark sense because it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Despite the villagers' unanimous support for Gaara during his abduction, the council members had been reserved and almost hateful in their actions. Kankuro sighed again, sealed his puppet into his scroll, and returned the scroll to his arsenal.

He didn't really feel like being the older brother today — not after Gaara's temper tantrum. However, it was a strange situation. Gaara hadn't been so explosive in years, and even then, he'd remained stoic most of the time. Seeing his little brother's emotions surface so easily almost seemed like an omen, and Kankuro had to wonder just how much the endless parade of nightmares and irrupted sleep had to do with it. Gaara wasn't getting any real rest, after all. So, knowing that Gaara needed an older brother more than ever, he set off to find the boy, although he purposely took his time, also knowing that Gaara needed to cool off.

Committing himself to his plan, Kankuro slowly and methodically checked the Kazekage's office, the mansion's balconies, and then Gaara's bedroom. When none of these places yielded results, Kankuro checked the most likely remaining place: the mansion's roof. This final location revealed a moping 15-year-old sitting with his knees against his chest and his arms folded around his legs. As usual, the boy was staring at the sunset.

Kankuro gathered himself and walked across the roof. "Heh. Thought I might find you here."

Gaara didn't look up. "I'm sorry."

"No big deal." He sat by Gaara and gazed at the sunset as well. "I get it. You're pissed off because, like me, you hate to be unable to act when you feel it's important. Like when you were abducted and I was poisoned by Akasuna no Sasori. Lying in bed waiting to heal was the most frustrating thing ever. I couldn't stand the thought of being bedridden while you were in danger."

From the corner of vision, Kankuro saw Gaara's gaze drop to his knees, but he didn't reply.

"I was impatient," Kankuro continued. "I took risks by chasing after you without reinforcements, and then I pushed myself hard to join Temari and the others in tracking you. Fortunately, the Konoha shinobi and Chiyo-basama were there to save you, but I gotta admit —" He paused, not sure he wanted to disclose his feelings. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to be honest. "I admit I was jealous. Jealous of Naruto and the others for saving you when I couldn't. Although I'm still eternally grateful, of course."

Gaara turned a wide-eyed gaze upon Kankuro, who had to smile in return. Something about his younger brother's shocked and innocent looks always hurt him and touched him at the same time.

"Why?" Gaara asked. "You did your best to save me. I'm quite grateful to you. And to Temari."

Kankuro turned and locked gazes with Gaara. "Exactly. That's my point exactly. I did my best to save you, and you're doing your best to regain your strength. We can both impatient people at times, but as you know, sometimes you have to work within your own limitations steadily but surely until you reach your goal. And it doesn't always spell disaster. If it did, you would've never made Kazekage, and you also wouldn't be sitting beside me right now."

Gaara returned his gaze to his knees. "Perhaps. But it is still my duty to strengthen myself as quickly as possible."

Kankuro watched the troubled look on Gaara's face and the aqua eyes clouded with depression. He wanted to hug his younger brother once again, but considering the way Gaara had shoved him away earlier, he didn't think it wise. Still, he was haunted by the feel of his brother's small frame in his arms; he forgot sometimes just how young Gaara really was — how young they both were, technically. It was a detail he easily lost sight of. Kankuro had always been so preoccupied with Gaara's maniacal mood swings that he'd failed to recognize the wounded heart of a six-year-old inside. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge the soul of the hurt child crying deep within the homicidal monster who was his brother; instead he'd wanted nothing to do with Gaara and his bloodlust.

But now . . . now not only had Gaara learned to better control the monster, but he also had lost the monster entirely. Part of that hurt child's soul was open for Kankuro to see, and he knew he was the only one Gaara allowed to see it. He was the only one Gaara confided in, and it was his duty to make him strong again.

_But when he's strong again, will he no longer need me? _Kankuro thought with a pang. It was a strange thought, but part of him ached to be the older brother, just as his arms ached with the need to comfort Gaara.

Gaara was still staring with despondency at his knees, and Kankuro moved before he even realized what he was doing. "Hey . . . it'll be all right," he said, reaching out and running one hand up his brother's back. Gaara relaxed faintly and closed his eyes.

However, instead of feeling better, Kankuro only hurt worse. How long could he play this role? How long would he be needed before Gaara pushed him away forever? Surely the only possible outcome was that Gaara would rebuild his strength and resume his confident demeanor as the Kazekage, and Kankuro would be standing two feet behind him watching Gaara rule the village. But Kankuro didn't want to be the loyal subject.

Kankuro scooted closer to Gaara and continued to rub his back, and his brother relaxed further, his frown fading slightly. Seeing that reaction to his care, Kankuro knew that all he really wanted was to be an older brother, even a father-figure to a certain extent. He wanted to stand by Gaara's side and protect him forever. More than that, he wanted Gaara to accept that protection.

In his own way, Kankuro — like Gaara — needed to be needed.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to darkhelmetj for betareading and anyone who reads and reviews! I appreciate everyone who read, reviewed, and/or faved the first story, "The Blood of Brothers" and my oneshot "Hurt."_

_A few notes:_  
_1. The rationale behind why I assume that Gaara's real strength is human and not from Shukaku has to do with multiple reasons which you'll find out later, but one of those reasons is Yamato's speech to Naruto about the same subject._

_2. Gaara's calling out of his defensive ninjustu: I realize he generally only calls out his attacks (sort of), but given how hard he's having to concentrate in this chapter, I decided to have him vocalize everything._

_3. Edit, July 2011: Obviously, this story was written long before the revelations that recently took place in manga chs. 546-548, and the fans back in 2008 had debated a great deal about the impact of Shukaku's loss on Gaara's abilities. All Kishi said at the time was that Gaara would still be able to control sand (that I was aware of, at least). I suppose this story is AU now, so please accept it as such._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Like Shukaku**

Gaara sat at his office desk and rolled a paperweight between his hands. It was blown-glass filled with red-brown swirls that reminded him of the way his sand used to circle around his body. With a sigh of frustration, Gaara fought the urge to hurl the globe across the room and shatter it. Such violent actions no longer served him, but the impulse made him think of Shukaku. And thinking about Shukaku reminded him of Kankuro's words: _"Your strength never came from Shukaku. The source of your strength was — and is — your dedication to protecting the village."_

"My power comes from protecting others . . ." Gaara mumbled to himself. "Part of my weakness right now is because I died; my body is still not back to full health." It made sense to him. His life-force had been wiped out, and while Chiyo-basama had saved him, it would still take time to feel like himself again. Besides, wanting to protect someone could make people strong — that was the lesson Naruto had taught him.

That lesson was still true.

Gaara inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and let all his breath out. He needed to continue to take Naruto's example to heart, and he needed to listen to his older brother. Gaara was not Shukaku, and he didn't need the monster. He could draw upon his own strength; he just needed more practice and some time to finish recovering from his ordeal.

Feeling reassured, Gaara set down the paperweight and picked up this afternoon's final border patrol report. At that moment, however, Taro entered the room. Taro had taken Yuura's position as head of security, and as one of the oldest council members, he looked at Gaara with a jaundiced eye.

Today was no different.

"Good afternoon, Gaara-kun," Taro said, fingering his white beard and gazing down at Gaara with hooded eyes.

Taro never referred to him as "Kazekage-sama," and Gaara wasn't in the mood for Taro's passive-aggressive behavior. "Taro-san," he said in acknowledgement, purposely not using the honorific Taro expected.

Taro bristled momentarily, then brushed both hands down his tan kimono as he regained his composure. "Sorry to interrupt your _busy_ schedule, but I thought you should know that the Aida Clan to the north showed signs of acting up today. It's been many years since we defeated them, so they've had ample time to recover. If they launch another major assault, we'll need every jonin, chunin, and genin in the village to ward them off."

Gaara frowned. He didn't know the details of the Aida Clan's first attack since it'd happened before he was born, but he'd heard stories. "I see. We'll have to discuss this in our council meeting tomorrow."

Taro cocked his head and smiled — a vicious grin, really. "Most definitely. I just thought you might want to get some extra rest tonight since we'll be needing your _monstrous _strength, and we all know how weak you've been since you died. Which is understandable, of course." He turned to leave, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Rest as much as you can, in fact. The great Third Kazekage had difficulty leading the defeat of the Aida, and he was the best Kazekage in our history."

Taro left without another word and therefore did not see the narrow-eyed death glare pinned on his back.

Kankuro entered the room as soon as Taro left, and he was glaring after the security chief. "I heard that. What an ass!" He clenched his fists. "I'd lay him out for you, but it'd probably cause more trouble that it'd fix."

"He's taunting me," Gaara said. "He's letting me know that he's aware of my problem. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that was a veiled threat."

Kankuro walked up to the desk. "Yeah. But how does he even know there is a problem?"

"Internal spies?" Gaara theorized. "Probably one of Taro's subordinates saw me practicing and reported my weakness to him."

Kankuro frowned. "I'm still convinced you just need rest and time. There is — and was — more to you than the monster."

Gaara's gaze fell to his desk again, and he felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks. His brother's continued reassurances made Gaara feel an inexplicable rush of warmth and gratitude. "Thank you."

"You still wanna train today? I said I'd help you."

Gaara glanced up. "Definitely. Now more so than ever."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Kankuro said, shaking his head. "Let's go, then."

Gaara nodded and followed his brother out to Training Arena 2, stopping only long enough to change out of his Kazekage robes and into his battle garb. Once they entered the arena, Kankuro immediately summoned Karasu, and Gaara uncorked his sand gourd.

Gaara stared at his brother, unsure of this course of action. Part of him wanted to train alone so no one would see his weakness; the other half of him desired a sparring partner. As Gaara pondered his decision, a hawk passed overhead, screeching as it looked for prey. The bird cast a small shadow that rippled over the sand.

"You ready?" Kankuro asked, moving Karasu into position.

Gaara focused his attention on the task at hand, committing himself to the fight. "Let's go."

Kankuro detached Karasu's four arms and opened the daggers embedded in them. With a flick of his fingers, he sent the blades toward Gaara.

"_Suna no tate._" Gaara held up two fingers to his lips, pouring his concentration into something that had once been automatic. The sand streamed out of his gourd and swept around him, creating a solid shield. Karasu's blades thunked against the sand, but Gaara could hear Kankuro jerk the blades back out.

Gaara reached deeper inside himself, holding part of the sand before him as a shield but redirecting the rest toward Karasu's limbs, wrapping the sand around the puppet's arms and rendering them immobile.

"Nice job," Kankuro said, but over the top of his sand shield, Gaara could see his brother lift the puppet's head.

_Here comes the poisoned needle, _Gaara thought, sending more chakra into his shield to reinforce it. However, the scene before him began to waver, and he realized with sudden horror that he'd not recovered from his nearly complete chakra-drain the day before.

Gaara could hear the needle fire — a faint whizzing noise slicing through the air — but he couldn't stop the sand shield from crumbling. He tried to jump clear, but he felt dizzy and merely tripped. He stumbled forward, the needle piercing his shoulder as he fell, and landed on his hands and knees in the hot sand.

"Gaara!" Just like the day before, Kankuro dumped his puppet on the ground and ran to his brother's side.

Gaara sat up, reached toward the long, thin needle, and yanked it out with a grunt of pain. "Poisoned, I assume?"

"No, no," Kankuro said. "I replaced the poisoned ones with clean ones before I came to spar, just in case."

Gaara didn't know whether to be grateful or insulted, but as he covered the wound with his hand, he decided to choose grateful. "That's good."

Kankuro sat behind him and pulled him backwards to rest on his shoulder. "Sorry, I thought your shield was holding up well. You must have really drained yourself low yesterday. You have to stop doing that; it's just going to make you take longer to heal."

Gaara frowned. Kankuro's assessment would be correct if — and only if — it was true that he didn't need Shukaku to be strong. However, if in a sick twist of fate he really needed the monster to protect the people he cared about . . . "Kankuro?"

Kankuro had pulled a small first aid kit out of the utility pouch on his belt. "Hm?" He squeezed some medicine on a gauze pad and tugged aside his overcoat, cleaning the wound left by the needle.

Gaara relaxed, feeling oddly safe being in his brother's arms once again. Why did Kankuro have that effect on him, and did it make him weak because he felt that way? "Are you sure that I really can be strong without Shukaku?"

Kankuro paused in his ministrations. "Positive." He continued to treat the wound, gently wiping up the blood. "I spent some time thinking about it, actually. Since Shukaku was embedded in you before you were born, his abilities have been imprinted upon you, probably at a genetic level. His life-force was fused with yours, two souls sharing one body. Maybe too much infused, even. But as a result, the ability to control sand is permanently imprinted in your body, which you've already proven. This tells me that you'll always be able to control sand."

"That doesn't mean I'll still be good at it," Gaara pointed out, irritated.

"Wrong," Kankuro said, taping a band-aid over Gaara's wound. "You have the genes of a Kazekage, so you always possessed more than the average natural talent for ninjutsu. It's only that Shukaku made you able to access more power and at a younger age. But Shukaku was always getting in your way, too; he fought you for control of your chakra, your body, and your mind. You spent a lot of time, effort, and strength controlling him. Now you don't have to. All that energy can be directed to your ninjutsu alone now."

Gaara rested against Kankuro for several minutes and considered his argument. He tried to find a way to defeat his brother's logic, but he couldn't.

"Add to that the fact that you became truly strong when you embraced your humanity and began fighting to protect others," Kankuro continued, "and you can see why I believe you'll be fine."

It was odd; Gaara's problems didn't seem as overwhelming when his older brother was around. He gazed up at the cloudless sky and willed himself to relax; however, he realized the same hawk was still circling overhead. The hawk had been circling the skies the day before, too. This in and of itself wasn't odd; hawks had territories in which they hunted. But Taro had a blood contract with hawks, Gaara knew, and he often used them for reconnaissance and battle.

Suddenly Gaara knew how Taro had come by his information. He stood abruptly, not even realizing he'd never responded to his brother's explanations. "I'm fine, so let's get back to work."

Kankuro paused, obviously surprised, but Gaara wasn't going give any indication that he knew they were being watched.

"Hey, are you sure?" Kankuro asked.

_Hurry, hurry!_ "Yes, I'm sure," Gaara snapped, needing to show his strength while the hawk was still present to see it.

Kankuro didn't look like he thought it was the best idea, but he stored his first aid kit and trudged back over to Karasu. "Whatever, man." He attached his chakra strings to his puppet, pulling it upright.

Desperate to show himself strong for the spy, Gaara held two fingers up to his lips and pulled on every ounce of his body's chakra. The scene before him wavered slightly, and he scowled in frustration. He couldn't fail.

Kankuro snapped his chakra strings taunt. "Prepare yourself." He pushed his hands forward, stretching his fingers as he did, and sent Karasu flying forward. The puppet clicked repeatedly and released a barrage of kunai.

"_Suna no tate,_" Gaara commanded his sand, sending his chakra into it and forcing it to swoop protectively around him. The kunai thudded against the shield, but the sand immediately began to crack.

"No," Gaara growled, stepping forward and pushing his chakra outward. He couldn't let anyone see that he was weak. He couldn't fail his village or his role as Kazekage; he would not become worthless again. This was his purpose for living.

"_Subaku kyuu!_" A burn rushed from Gaara's stomach, up his chest, and out through his arms. His palms stung from the force of the chakra leaving his body, and the sand in front of him exploded outward, sending the lodged kunai flying. The sand surged forward, shaped roughly like Gaara's hands and arms, and hurled itself toward Karasu and Kankuro.

Gaara realized immediately that, in his anger and desperation, he'd lost control of the sand. He jerked both of his hands backward to draw back the sand arms, but it was too late. The sand hit the puppet in the chest and tossed it backwards a dozen yards. Kankuro tried to dodge, but the sand caught him in the leg as he jumped. He yelped as he was thrown violently sideways.

"Kankuro!" Gaara's fear destroyed his concentration, and the sand plummeted to the desert floor. He raced across the arena to his brother, who was clutching his right leg and squeezing his eyes shut in obvious agony.

"Did it break? Are you bleeding? Kankuro! Are you all right?" Gaara fell to his knees and lifted his brother's hand away from the wound. Sand grit was mixed with blood, and Gaara couldn't tell how serious the injury was. "Stay still, and don't touch it!" He faintly realized he was yelling, that he'd completely lost control of his emotions, but he didn't care. "I'll go get help."

Kankuro didn't reply; he just continued to pant in pain. Worried beyond words, Gaara stood and raced toward the hospital, the thought of the spying hawk furthest from his mind.

_I did it again!_ Gaara thought, running as quickly as his ninja skill would allow. _I lost control; I struck out in anger. Just like with Shukaku. I hurt my brother . . ._

* * *

Kankuro awoke and immediately tried to figure out where he was. Long sunrays stretched across the ceiling above him, turning the beige plaster orange. _The last of the sunset,_he thought and blinked. The smell of rubbing alcohol burned his nose, and with a groan he realized what that had to mean. "Hospital," he mumbled.

Temari's face entered his line of vision. "Glad you're awake." Green eyes sparkled with mirth. "Your little brother has practically gone into hysterics."

"Hysterics?" Kankuro failed to form a mental image of Gaara hysterical. Maniacal, maybe, but never hysterical. "What —?" His memory snapped back into place, showing him an image of sand shooting in his direction. "Oh. Right. I got hurt during our sparring."

"Hurt?" Temari snapped, her mirth suddenly gone. "You had third degree burns and blisters on your lower leg, and your ankle had a hairline fracture!"

Kankuro blinked again in an attempt to gather his wits and then focused on his sister, who he realized was sitting in a chair by his bed. "That bad?" He stopped and focused his concentration on his leg, but he felt no pain. "Am I all right?"

Temari snorted. "You are now. The med nin had fun treating you, though. It gave us all quite a scare."

"'Scare' . . ." Kankuro echoed, his mind making the connection back to Temari's first words. "Gaara! How is Gaara?"

Temari cocked her head and smiled ruefully. "I've never seen him like that. They told me he stormed into the hospital like half the town had been killed. By the time I reached your room, he was pacing the floor, and then when I tried to get him to calm down, he actually held my hand." She shook her head. "I would have probably fainted from shock except he was squeezing so hard it hurt."

Kankuro cringed. Given how much they'd been discussing the differences between Gaara-the-human and Gaara-the-monster, Kankuro couldn't imagine that his brother had taken the incident well. After all, the fact Gaara had severely wounded him would have reminded him too much of his time spent hosting Shukaku. "What did he say?"

"Not much." Temari crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the wall. "All he'd say was that you two had been sparing and it had gone wrong. Past that, he just kept this tight, closed expression on his face. You'd think nothing was wrong, but the pacing and hand-squeezing gave it away."

"That doesn't exactly sound like hysterics," Kankuro pointed out.

Temari redirected her gaze to him. "Your brother was pacing."

Kankuro had to admit defeat. "Well . . . right."

"And I could tell by the dark look in his eyes that he was hating himself." She sighed. "Now that you're awake, I better find him. He ran off after he heard you'd be fine; who knows where he went."

Kankuro forced himself to sit up. "Yeah. Please find him. And send the doctor in on your way out, will you?"

"On one condition." She raised a finger. "Whatever you two were doing out there, cut it out! If you're following proper training protocols, injuries as severe as yours shouldn't happen."

Kankuro held up both hands in surrender. Arguing with Temari was useless at best. "I promise."

She nodded and left, and Kankuro stood up and started pulling on his clothes. He grimaced when he saw the torn and bloody leg of his pants. "Wow, he really did a number on me."

"Yes, he did," the doctor said as she entered the room. "And I'm not releasing you from care unless you agree to stay off that leg for the next three days. We may have been able to heal you, but you're not back to one hundred percent."

Kankuro agreed to every request and direction the doctor gave, not even listening to half of it in his preoccupation with Gaara. He had to find his younger brother and make sure he was all right.

Soon after the doctor left, Temari returned, but Gaara was not with her. "I can't find him anywhere," she said.

"I'm not surprised," Kankuro said. He took a deep breath, starting to tell her what was happening, but then stopped short. He didn't know if Gaara wanted their sister to have the full details.

Temari was watching him carefully. "Does this have to do with his rebuilding his chakra?" she asked quietly.

Kankuro nodded. "Yeah. He's . . . not patient. I thought I'd gotten him calmed down a bit, but then suddenly he wanted to spar at full force. I'm not sure what set him off." He slipped on his shoes. "I'll look for him now. If he sees I'm fine for himself, he might calm down faster. But, hey, if you run across him first, find me. I'm going to stop by my room and change into something . . . less bloody."

"Sure thing."

Kankuro smiled at his sister's retreating back, knowing she felt as deeply as he did about Gaara, and then carefully made his way back to the Kazekage's mansion and his own room. When he threw open his door, he stopped in shock and stared. Gaara was curled up in his bed, the sheets wrapped around him.

Kankuro shook his head and quietly shut the door behind him. _Why my room?_ he wondered. He watched the sleeping young man for several seconds, realizing as he did that Gaara had shed everything except his pants. Kankuro could clearly see the band-aid on Gaara's shoulder and the dried blood there. He could also tell he wasn't sleeping peacefully: not only were the sheets twisted around his torso, but also he was curled tightly into the fetal position and was clutching the pillow to his chest. Even as Kankuro watched, Gaara shifted slightly and whimpered in pain.

Kankuro scratched his head and held in a sigh. This was not going to be pretty. He quickly changed pants and folded the bloody pants on his small worktable so that the torn leg was hidden. Then he walked over to the bed, sat on the edge, and shook Gaara's shoulder.

Gaara awoke with a sharp gasp, slapping Kankuro's hand away as he did.

Kankuro flinched at the violence but forced himself not to feel stung by the rejection; after all, his brother had been dead asleep.

"Kankuro!" Gaara froze at the sight of his brother, then bolted upright. He looked at the hand he'd just slapped and frowned. "Sorry. You just startled me; I didn't know it was you."

"It's all right. I get it." Kankuro smiled at him, hoping to make him relax.

Gaara stared at him with huge aqua eyes. "How's your leg?"

"I'm healed up, but they want me to stay off of it for a few days." Kankuro shrugged, trying to brush it off.

Gaara continued to stare up at him. "I apologize for hurting you," he said quietly.

Kankuro could see the pain brimming in his brother's eyes. "Accidents happen."

"I lost control." Gaara fisted the sheets. "Just like when I had Shukaku, I lost control of my anger, and as a result, I couldn't rein in the sand and you got hurt."

Kankuro frowned. "Why did you get so mad?"

Gaara looked down as his lap and scowled as though he didn't want to say. "One of Taro's hawks was spying on us."

"Taro?" Kankuro felt a spike of rage in his gut, but he held it back. "I see. So you pushed yourself to show strength for the spy?"

A blush crept across Gaara's cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Kankuro turned his back on his brother and took on a firm tone of voice. "I'll accept your apology on one condition."

Shocked silence pervaded the room. "Name it."

"You have to rest along with me for the next three days."

A quiet exhalation sounded behind him. "As you like, _nii-san_."

Struck by Gaara's choice of words, Kankuro smiled and turned to face him again. He knew Gaara was not at peace over what had happened in the training arena, but he left the topic alone. "Good. Now why in the world did you come to my room and sleep in my bed?"

The blush on Gaara's cheeks spread across his entire face. He turned his gaze toward the door and wouldn't meet Kankuro's eyes. "I like your room better."

"Why?" Kankuro wouldn't normally prod, but he was secretly amused and fascinated by his little brother's embarrassment.

Gaara still wouldn't look at him. His voice was so soft Kankuro could barely hear his words. "Because . . . because your sheets smell like you."

Kankuro was taken aback and laughed nervously. Had Gaara retained Shukaku's inhuman sense of smell? If so, perhaps familiar smells comforted him. Still, Kankuro wasn't sure why his scent, specifically, would be reassuring. He scratched his head in embarrassment and smiled. "Oh. So that's a . . . uh . . . good thing?"

Gaara wouldn't answer, and Kankuro just laughed again and pushed him back to lay flat on the bed again. "Fine, then," he said, stretching out on his stomach and throwing an arm across Gaara's waist. "Stay here and rest."

Gaara stared at the ceiling for a moment, but he didn't resist. "Uh-hm." He closed his eyes, and Kankuro could feel him relax.

Kankuro smiled to himself, watching his brother fall asleep, and hoped against hope that this was a sign — a sign Gaara would always need his older brother on some level. Kankuro didn't think he could stand it if he were ever tossed aside.

He continued to watch Gaara sleep peacefully until he himself dozed off.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and/or faved chapter 1._

_Just in case, let me say that "nii-san" means "older brother". So far, I have left out Japanese terms in my stories because they can be distracting or confusing to new anime/manga fans. However, since English-speakers don't normally refer to their siblings as "Older Brother," I used the Japanese term in order to indicate the subtly and sincerity of Gaara's assent. I did the same thing with the scene with Taro. Since English has no direct equivalent for the choice to call someone "-kun" or "-san" instead of "-sama," I made a point of using the Japanese honorifics._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: To Be Human**

Gaara stared up at Kankuro's hat as he followed him down the Suna's dusty streets. For the past three days, Kankuro had stayed off his injured leg, and Gaara had honored his promise to his brother by not training. However, in order to prevent Taro from discovering he was sleeping, Gaara had refused to sleep for the past three nights. As a result, he had begun to feel fuzzy-headed and found himself wondering why his brother's hat had cat ears. Did cats ever notice this? Had a cat ever accidentally pounced on his head?

Gaara shook his head, trying to clear his mind. This evening he and his siblings had been invited to Councilman Daisuke's home for dinner, and Gaara had done his best to act normally throughout the meal. Fortunately, he had never been one to talk much, and Kankuro and Temari had handled his part of the conversation as usual. Now Gaara, who was practically falling asleep on his feet, was following Kankuro back to their mansion while Temari stayed behind to play shogi with Daisuke's wife.

_This is too strange,_ Gaara thought, he eyelids drooping. _I never would have guessed normal people would find it so hard to forego sleep._ For a second, he thought he saw a cat moving along the dusty street beside them, but once he turned his dazed attention toward the figure, he realized it was just the shadow of his brother's hat. _Even my perceptions are warping . . ._

Kankuro glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Stay with me, man. It wouldn't look good if I carried you the rest of the way home."

Gaara started to formulate a comeback, but his mind was waylaid by the thought of stealing Kankuro's bed to sleep in.

Suddenly, a piercing yell cut through the quiet evening: "I told you to pay up!"

Gaara halted, shocked into wakefulness, and Kankuro stopped as well, turning toward a tavern on their right. The sandy beige exterior of the building looked mundane and peaceful enough, but the sound of a punch echoed out into the street, followed by several screams.

"You worthless scum!" continued the angry voice. "I don't care if your wife was killed on a mission. That don't give you no right to drink all my beer and never pay!"

Kankuro frowned and started toward the tavern's entrance just as the sound of further punches and falling tables pierced the walls. Gaara immediately followed, thinking that whatever the problem was, violence was not the solution.

When he stepped into the tavern behind Kankuro, Gaara realized the situation was already severely out-of-hand. All the tables in the center of the room were toppled over, and the patrons were lining the walls to stay out of the way. In the middle of the commotion were two men, one obviously the enraged barkeep and the other a drunken shinobi. The shinobi had pulled out two kunai and was aiming them at the barkeep, who was holding a serving platter before him like a shield.

Gaara tensed, realizing he might have to use his sand to protect the barkeep and equally aware of the fact he might not be able to. "Enough!" he said, the sharpness of his tone cutting through tavern.

Everyone froze, but the drunken shinobi and the barkeep didn't look away from each other.

Gaara walked between them and crossed his arms. "Is your dispute really so severe that it warrants death?"

At Gaara's words, the men's staring contest was broken. The drunken shinobi slumped, letting his kunai fall to the floor. "No, Kazekage-sama." Tears collected in his eyes. "I just — I . . . since my wife died . . . I just want to drink. I'll pay my tab when I get paid next week. Sugawara knows that."

The barkeep, who was apparently named Sugawara, growled. "You _used_ to pay your tab. Since your wife died, you haven't paid anything."

Gaara turned his stare upon the barkeep. "There are proper channels for handling debtors. Beating them is not one of them."

Sugawara visibly swallowed and then blushed. "Yes, Kazekage-sama."

Gaara turned to the shinobi. "You have one week to pay back your debt to this man. You will also report to the ninja academy tomorrow and begin helping to train students. You will choose three especially talented girls and train them in your wife's name so that they can help you honor her memory. I never want to see you drunk again. Do you understand?"

The shinobi's eyes widened, and the tears in his eyes escaped down his cheeks. "Yes, sir!"

Gaara turned to the barkeep. "You will give him one week to pay back his debt, and if he doesn't, you will use proper legal channels to pursue the matter. I never want to hear of you attacking a customer again. Do you understand?"

Sugawara nodded emphatically.

"Very well." Gaara turned and headed toward the door, but a mass of villagers had clogged the doorway, all of them reaching out toward him and talking at once.

"That was so wise, Kazekage-sama!"

"You always know just what to do, Kazekage-sama!"

"Oh, Kazekage-sama! You do such an excellent job protecting the village!"

Gaara had never been comfortable with crowds, but their praise cut him to the core. If they only knew how unprotected they really were at the moment. Gaara squeezed past them and slipped out the door, wanting nothing more than to be back in the quiet of his room. Behind him, Gaara could hear Kankuro thanking the villagers for him.

Despite his exhaustion, Gaara's frustration gave him the strength to run back to the mansion. Kankuro was close behind him and entered Gaara's quarters only a few seconds after he himself did.

"What is it?" Kankuro immediately asked.

"Nothing," Gaara snapped, jerking off his Kazekage robes.

"_Something,_" Kankuro replied. "You're angry. But why? You did great handling that dispute. In fact, I'm really proud of you."

Gaara flinched and threw his robes onto his bed. Kankuro had no idea how his kind words made it sting worse. "What if I'd had to stop the fight?"

His brother paused.

Gaara glared at him. "Well? What if I had? Everyone would have learned my dirty little secret, and then they'd know — they'd know I'm not really protecting the village."

Kankuro held up both hands in a calming fashion, but Gaara was too frustrated with himself to be comforted. "Just leave," he said.

Kankuro blinked. "But I —"

"Leave!" Gaara commanded, and he realized he sounded just as venomous as he had as the boy who'd attended the chuunin exams.

His brother's gaze fell, and he turned without a word and left.

Gaara sat in the floor right where he stood and wrapped his arms around his knees. He'd done it again — he'd hurt Kankuro. Now that Shukaku was gone, he was beginning to act more like a monster than he had in three years. Gaara growled, even angrier at himself than he had been. However, he couldn't apologize just now; he couldn't call Kankuro back. He was too enraged to be around anyone.

* * *

Kankuro sat at the small workbench in his bedroom, where he occasionally fine-tuned his puppets, and picked up the wolf he was close to completing. All he needed to do was sharpen the blades serving as the puppet's fangs, and he'd be done. He set to work, trying not to think about the fact that his brother was already pushing him away. Becoming unneeded by or useless to Gaara was something that had been bothering him since he'd failed to rescue his brother from Akatsuki. Now it was worse because — oddly enough — his brother had turned to him for help. Kankuro had experienced actually acting on that care and had seen how it felt. Therefore, the fear that he'd become unneeded or useless to Gaara was now confounded by the fear that Gaara would push him away . . .

Kankuro's stomach cramped at his thoughts, but he ignored his pain and kept working, hoping the methodical task would clear his mind.

A half hour passed, then a faint knock sounded on his door. Kankuro turned toward the sound and responded without thinking. "Come in!"

When Gaara opened the door and entered, Kankuro frowned for a moment, not sure he really wanted to see his brother. However, Gaara looked so exhausted that Kankuro abandoned the thought. The black circles around his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual, and when he closed the door, he slumped against it like he was so tired he could barely stand up. Kankuro remembered belatedly that his brother had skipped three nights' worth of sleep on top of rigorous and frustrating training.

"You calmer now?" Kankuro asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Gaara stared at the bed and didn't reply. His face was completely impassive, but his eyes seemed glazed.

Kankuro felt a flash of irritation. "Don't come up here if you're just going to sleep in my bed. I'm not leaving to accommodate your need to be 'left alone.' This is my room, after all."

Gaara flinched. "It's not that," he said in a quiet voice. "It's just . . . I'm just . . . still a monster."

"What?" Kankuro set down the wolf and stood up. Only then did he notice Gaara's hands: the skin on his knuckles was busted, and blood covered his fingers.

Gaara continued to stare at the bed.

Disturbed by the sight of Gaara's self-inflicted injuries, Kankuro took a step closer. "What do you mean you're 'still a monster?'"

"I mean I'm still a monster!" Gaara yelled suddenly, the impassiveness shattered. The sand that was scattered across Kankuro's bedroom floor — a permanent feature of every Suna home — rose up and began slowly circling through the air.

Kankuro immediately backed up a step. "Gaara . . ."

"Ever since I came back from death," Gaara continued, his eyes bright with rage, "I haven't been able to control my emotions like I used to. I try. Frustration . . . anger . . . even fear." The circling sand raised another few inches and increased its rotation. "But they seep out of me and make me hurt people again. I'm still a monster!"

Kankuro watched half in dread and half in awe as the sand began wrapping around Gaara's body. He had to talk, and fast. "You're not a monster. Frustration, anger, and fear are normal human emotions. I suspect that you spent so much time suppressing Shukaku's emotions that you didn't allow yourself to have any. Or, at least, not many. But your emotions, like your chakra, are now yours alone. You'll adjust to both."

Gaara clenched his bloody fists and squeezed his eyes shut. "Impossible! This can't be what it means to be human." The sand pulled into a ball in front of Gaara's chest and then suddenly exploded outward.

Kankuro reacted instantly, shooting his chakra out of his fingertips, grabbing the wolf puppet, and jerking it in front of his body like a shield. The sand collided with the puppet and shattered it, sending pieces of wood flying all over the room. Kankuro threw his arms up, but one fragment still cut his cheek as it flew past.

Dead silence descended upon the room. Kankuro felt a moment's pang over the lost puppet, but his disappointment was swept aside when he lowered his arms and found a wide-eyed Gaara staring at him in horror. The boy raised one shaking, bloody hand to his mouth as though he'd be sick.

"I've hurt you," he choked out. "Again. I hurt you again!"

It took Kankuro half a second to realize his sleep-deprived, frustrated brother was getting ready to have a meltdown. He ran across the room and took Gaara's small, bloody hands into his own. "I'm fine," he told the boy calmly. "See? Just a scratch."

Impossibly wide aqua eyes stared up at Kankuro, but Gaara didn't respond.

"You're not a monster," Kankuro said quietly, slowly. "All humans lose their tempers sometimes and hurt others. What you did today was an accident. What you did three days ago was an accident. You weren't trying to injure me on purpose."

"I hurt you earlier, too," Gaara replied in a small voice.

"When you ordered me out of your room?" Kankuro didn't want to admit how that had stung, but he didn't see that he had a choice. "Yes, you did. But humans learn, too. Just don't do it again, okay?"

Gaara continued to stare at him. "Are you sure I'm not a monster? Just a monster without power?" He pulled his hands free and grasped his head. "I'm not getting any stronger. I'm useless again — my existence is unneeded." He stopped suddenly and looked up at Kankuro with an expression of pure fear. He pressed his back against the door as though he were trying to break through and escape.

Kankuro stared at Gaara, rendered speechless by this outburst. He started to step forward, paused when his body didn't seem to want to move, then finished the motion. He grabbed Gaara's shoulders. "You're not useless!"

"You won't —" Gaara paused. "You won't . . .?"

Kankuro wasn't sure what his brother was trying to say. "What more can you demand of yourself?" he asked, desperately trying to appeal to Gaara's rational side. "You train yourself until you can't stand up any longer; you take care of every single piece of paperwork that crosses your desk. You hear out every problem that surfaces in the village from the most serious to the most petty. You sit through the endless babbling and self-aggrandizing of the council members, and you check on the progress of the academy students. And you never once complain or show impatience about anything or anyone except yourself."

Gaara frowned. "But I —"

"But you what?" Kankuro asked. "There is more to being a great leader than being powerful; there is more to being Kazekage than the ability to defeat any enemy. Being a great leader has to do with patience and wisdom, compassion and justice. You have to weigh the needs of individuals and groups, look at every side of a problem, and consider how the choices you make today will affect the future. You have always done these things. You worked hard to become the person you are in here." Kankuro poked Gaara in the chest, right over his heart. "And here." He tapped his skull. "None of this has changed about you, Shukaku or not. Why would we suddenly not need that?"

Gaara stared at him for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock, and then he did the last thing Kankuro expected. He stepped forward and leaned against his older brother's chest. Kankuro froze for a moment, shocked senseless, then wrapped his arms around him.

"It's not enough." His words were muffled by Kankuro's chest. "The village finally looks up to me, and now I'm going to get everyone killed."

Kankuro tightened his arms around Gaara's thin shoulders and rested his cheek against his head. "You're overreacting. We will never stop training until you are back to normal. Besides, it's not just about what people _need._ It's about what they _want_. And they want you — they respect you now. You proved to them first that you care about them, and in return they love you for it. They'll wait for you to recover."

Gaara didn't respond, and Kankuro sighed silently. He turned both him and his brother around and then slid down the door, forcing them both to sit. Gaara, who had remained silent during the process, clutched at his own stomach and seemed to be trying his best to curl into a ball. Seeing this, Kankuro made him sit between his knees so he could hold him against his chest. He blushed a bit, feeling overly much like a father, and wondered if Gaara would shove him away again. However, the boy leaned against him without protest.

Kankuro ran one hand up and down Gaara's back, trying to calm him. "You do realize that sleep deprivation makes people irritable and irrational, right?"

The ball curled against his chest still didn't respond.

"Do you at least recognize that your accidental attack against me just now is a clear sign you're getting stronger?"

Gaara shifted slightly, tucking his head under Kankuro's chin. "It is?"

Kankuro's lips twitched as the soft, spiky hair tickled his neck. "Yes. You unconsciously pulled normal sand to yourself, balled it up, and launched it without even thinking."

A long silence met this observation, then Gaara relaxed against him. "Hn."

Kankuro wrapped both arms tightly around the boy resting on him and smiled. "You're so stubborn."

One skinny arm snaked around Kankuro's waist, but the red-head didn't reply at first. Finally, he spoke. "Do you still have your first aid kit?"

Kankuro thought of Gaara's bloody hands and grimaced. "Yeah, and we —"

"Give it to me. Please."

Kankuro reached for the utility pack on his belt and pulled out the little kit. Gaara sat up and took it, fumbling through it with shaky fingers. Kankuro started to offer his help, but Gaara managed to open the ointment tube and squeeze some onto a piece of gauze.

"You'll need more than that," Kankuro said, looking that Gaara's busted knuckles. "In fact, we should wash your hands first."

"Hmm?" Gaara looked up at him with surprise, then reached out and cleaned the blood from Kankuro's cheek. "It's not for me."

Kankuro was rendered speechless again. He watched Gaara treat his wound with quiet determination and realized this was the first time his little brother had ever taken care of him directly and personally.

Gaara gazed up at him with eyes full of remorse. "Is that better?"

"Y-yes." Kankuro couldn't begin to tell him that any residual pain had been banished by his sheer act of caring.

Gaara nodded and closed the kit.

"Hey, we still need to treat your hands," Kankuro said.

"Later." Gaara leaned against his brother's chest once more and yawned. One small arm snaked around his waist again.

Kankuro gazed down at the red mop of hair on his shoulder and decided he had to be the only brother in the world who was also a best friend and father. Somehow, although that fact made him blush with embarrassment, it also made him proud.

"Look," he said softly, unable to stop himself from teasing Gaara, "the little kid has shown up again."

"Shut up," Gaara said in a tone that completely lacked anger, "or I'll make you buy me a teddy bear."

Kankuro laughed and hugged his brother once more, but after a moment his smile faded as he remembered the angry and confused child who had been introduced to him as his younger brother — a total stranger who had been left in his uncle's care. That little boy had desperately clutched a brown teddy bear to his chest as he'd stared at his siblings with wonder and fear of rejection. That was the boy Gaara had been shortly before Uncle Yashmaru had tried to kill him . . .

Kankuro's heart ached, and he ran one hand through Gaara's hair. "I was serious when I said I was going to protect you for the rest of your life."

If anything, Gaara seemed to relax more. "Good," he mumbled, and within moments he was asleep.

"Thank you," Kankuro whispered, then picked up his brother and carried him over to the bed. He laid him down and tucked him in, then sat beside him. Gaara curled onto his side, and Kankuro reflected that his brother really was getting stronger: he was figuring out life without Shukaku _and _rebuilding his chakra. Kankuro didn't think his brother had yet realized just how significant his accidental attack had been. Chief of Security or not, Taro couldn't begin to understand how fast Gaara was recovering. If the creep really was going to make some type of move against the Kazekage, he'd be quick to learn his confidence was misplaced.

Not to mention Kankuro would be there to help protect Gaara. Forever.

Gaara shifted slightly in his sleep, and Kankuro reached out and smoothed down his hair. "Sleep well. I'll always watch over you."

* * *

_A/N: As you can tell, there will be a third story in this series — one dealing with Taro directly._

_Thank you to Darkhelmetj for betareading, and thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! Several more Gaara & Kankuro brotherly h/c fics are headed your way._


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